


Truths of Years Long Past

by Mademoisellesnowflake



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Emotionally stunted men talking about their feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Late Night Conversations, Love Confessions, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 21:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14839601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mademoisellesnowflake/pseuds/Mademoisellesnowflake
Summary: During the first night back in Paris, truths as well as beds are shared as two men try to reconnect after four years apart.Edit: added a new scene at the end!





	Truths of Years Long Past

**Author's Note:**

> It is my headcanon that Aramis and Porthos share a room in the garrison and no one can tell me otherwise. Sometimes they share beds too.  
> Tonight they share truths of events long past.  
> As well as hugs.  
> Porthos gets to talk about feelings a lot more than he's used to.

“Stop thinking so loud”, Porthos muttered, “I’m trying to sleep here, Aramis.”

The first night back in Paris with Aramis had been interesting to say the least. Porthos hadn’t been sure how he should have acted around Aramis after all those years apart from him. Aramis, as well, had seemed distant and unsure of how to act around his friends once again. As they had been retiring for the night, Porthos had given Aramis no choice but to sleep in their old room they had shared together. Porthos had thought that sharing the room once again would help them sort out their differences.

But alas, he had been very wrong. Instead of reconnecting, Aramis had gone to bed immediately but wouldn’t fall asleep. Porthos could almost feel the worry leaking from Aramis as he tried to sleep.

Porthos held his breath, hoping Aramis would answer. He wanted – _needed_ – Aramis to answer, to just say something. The separation had been like a bleeding wound for Porthos and he still felt like the wound wouldn’t close until he and Aramis reconnected.

He just had no idea how to do that.

“Come sleep next to me if you can’t sleep alone”, Porthos offered suddenly, speaking before he could stop himself. He mentally kicked himself as he heard Aramis shifting on his bed and standing up.

Porthos could hear Aramis’ soft steps – steps that can be deadly quiet to enemies – walking towards Porthos but stopping suddenly. When the expected lurch of his bed never happened, Porthos frowned and wondered if Aramis was having second thoughts. He turned around, ready to speak, but his annoyed words died in his throat when he saw Aramis’ uncertain expression.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea”, Aramis whispered. “I… the brothers in the abbey didn’t favour physically expressing affection… When Athos hugged me back there, I – I realised I hadn’t been properly held at all for the four years.”

Porthos’ stomach lurched. Aramis, sweet Aramis who needed at least five hugs a day to function, hadn’t received any during his four years in the monastery? The children had probably hugged him from time to time but even that couldn’t have been enough, Porthos knew. What Aramis needed was a bone-crushing hug, not a sleepy embrace of a tired child after a long day.

“Then why don’t you come here?” Porthos asked. “Just lie down and let me hold you?”

“I hurt you”, Aramis whispered, sounding more uncertain than a child. “I hurt you and you’re angry and frankly, I don’t deserve your affection after I hurt you like that. I see now how big of a mistake I made four years ago when I left but at that time I felt like I had to do so. To protect you all from my never-ending mistakes.”

Aramis looked wretched. He was hugging himself and desperately avoiding Porthos’ gaze. His eyes looked so very empty that it hurt.

“Get in here”, Porthos said and moved the quilt so that Aramis would fit in. “Now. I might be angry at you for leaving but don’t you think I might want to hold you as well? Hell, I missed you so much that Athos had to stop me more than once from riding to the monastery and demanding to see you, you thick-skulled idiot. Now get in here and let me hold you like I used to. And don’t you dare to cry because if you do, I might not be able to stop myself from crying.”

Aramis visibly hesitated for a moment before lying down next to Porthos. He looked mildly uncomfortable and stiffened a little as Porthos wrapped his arms around Aramis. Aramis rolled on his side and buried his face in Porthos’ shoulder. Porthos noticed how Aramis trembled in the embrace and sighed exasperatedly.

“God, I missed you so much”, Porthos whispered as he rubbed Aramis’ back. “Yeah, your leaving was a mistake, but you needed to find yourself. I can understand that.”

Porthos heard Aramis gulping. He could feel all the self-loathing and regret that were leaking out of Aramis in waves as he tried to control his breathing and hide from the world. Aramis tightened his grip on Porthos, trying to get closer to him.

“You know what the worst part of it all was?” Porthos whispered, holding Aramis closer. “When there were men dying around me, I was happy that you were away at the monastery where nothing could kill you. I was happy, knowing that even though I could die, you would still be safe, and I would never have to see you dead and unmoving like all those other soldiers.”

For a moment, Aramis stopped breathing altogether. Porthos wondered for a moment if he had overstepped some fine line he hadn’t known of. When Aramis let out a shaky breath, it dawned to Porthos that Aramis had probably feared that Porthos would die in the war.

“I always dreaded hearing any news from the front”, Aramis whispered, his voice thick. “That’s why I soothed myself by telling the children all those stories of you. So that I wouldn’t forget the life I shared with you…”

“But you excluded yourself from them”, Porthos said quietly. “Why?”

“I didn’t have the right to be with you anymore”, Aramis explained. “I had abandoned you on the eve of war and betrayed your trust. I didn’t want the children to admire a man who runs away from his mistakes, leaving his brothers in trouble.”

“And yet, by doing so you also excluded the man who always mended the wounds of us three”, Porthos whispered. “You excluded the man who always looked out for the others before taking care of himself and showed kindness to those who needed it the most. The man who had been left down by his friends when Marsac returned to Paris to kill the duke of Savoy. You excluded the man whom the Porthos loved very much. Whom the Porthos still loves.”

It felt odd to speak so much. Porthos had never been a man of words, much less of those that expressed his emotions. Physical feelings he could do fine; he could tell hunger apart from thirst and tiredness from wakefulness. But emotions, they were hard. Love, hate, happiness, they were all this odd mass in his chest that he couldn’t quite understand. It had taken him years to understand exactly how much he loved Aramis.

Years he couldn’t take back as Aramis had already left when the depth of Porthos’ feelings for the man had become evident.

Aramis pulled back from Porthos’ embrace to look at Porthos. Aramis’ right hand was resting on Porthos’ cheek, thumb caressing Porthos’ skin as Aramis’ dark eyes searched for something in Porthos’ face.

“I…I always thought I was alone with what I felt for you”, Aramis whispered. “I never had the courage to imagine that you would love someone like me.”

“But I do”, Porthos whispered and smiled widely before pressing a kiss on Aramis’ forehead. “I love you, you dumb and gorgeous man. I used to kiss you back then because I loved you, even though I hadn’t realised it yet.”

Porthos pulled Aramis back into the embrace, burying his face in Aramis’ hair. Aramis wrapped his arms around Porthos and giggled a little nervously. Porthos kissed his temple and smiled.

“It’ll be fine, Aramis”, Porthos said. “No one will blame you for leaving ever again. We were hurt, yes, but we understood why you had to do it. The queen most of all, I think.”

Aramis inhaled sharply and squeezed Porthos tightly for a bit. He buried his face in Porthos’ shoulder again.

“What happened in that convent, I never meant it to happen”, Aramis whispered. “My moment of weakness endangered all of you.”

“It did”, Porthos admitted. “But you never told any of us why you had a moment of weakness. Why did you have that moment?”

Aramis sighed and shook his head. For a moment Porthos feared Aramis would not tell him why such a weakness overtook him at that convent.

“There was a person I had once held dear”, Aramis whispered. “So dear that we had almost married. But the marriage never happened, and she was spirited away from the village I grew in. I searched for her desperately but as I never found her, I lost all hope of doing so. It turned out that she had lived in that convent, doing what she most wanted. Those bandits murdered her in cold blood as she tried to help hiding the queen. I had barely found her again when she was gone again, this time for good.”

“And the queen?” Porthos asked softly. “Why her?”

“She tried to comfort me”, Aramis whispered into Porthos shoulder. “She held me. I think she was afraid of dying and needed the comfort as much as I did.”

“I see”, Porthos said and kissed Aramis’ temple. Something in his chest had eased with all the truths and holding Aramis felt as natural as breathing again. Like it had felt all those years ago.

“God, I’ve really missed holding you like this”, Porthos whispered.

* * *

 

“Constance says the dauphin is growing”, Porthos mumbled sleepily. He was still holding Aramis to his chest and stroking Aramis’ hair. “She’s been to the palace quite regularly. Says that the dauphin has your courage.”

“Oh”, Aramis breathed. His head was resting on Porthos’ chest and the puff of air was enough to warm Porthos’ chest a little. Aramis was holding Porthos’ hand and squeezed his fingers a little.

Porthos could tell Aramis was hesitating again. It was like Aramis wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words to express what was on his mind. After learning of the woman Aramis had loved – _Isabelle_ , Porthos had learnt – Porthos was almost afraid of hearing what Aramis would tell him.

“Isabelle and I…we almost had a child”, Aramis whispered. “Before the child could be born, Isabelle lost it. I had expected to be a father and to have my child die before I even met it…It hurt, Porthos. It hurt so much I almost couldn’t take it. I never understood how bad it had to be for Isabelle.”

Porthos squeezed Aramis’ shoulder to show even a little compassion. It all made sense to him; the way how Aramis loved all the children, the way Aramis wanted to be close to the small prince. Porthos’ chest felt tight as he understood how much pain Aramis had gone through at such a young age. It hurt him to understand that Aramis could never be the one thing he wanted the most.

Aramis could never be a father to his only child.

“That’s why you took care of those orphans”, Porthos realised. “You needed something to look after, to be a parent to, didn’t you? Because you can’t be a parent to the child you most want to be a parent to.”

Aramis nodded, clearly unable to speak. He blinked his eyes, refusing to look at Porthos.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that”, Porthos whispered. “I wish I could give you the family you want.”

“You have already”, Aramis mumbled against Porthos’ chest. “I already have a family thanks to you and Athos and d’Artagnan. And Constance. I may not be able to be a father but at least I have you to be my family.”

“And who knows, maybe d’Artagnan will have a bunch of children with Constance and then we get to be their uncles”, Porthos said, making Aramis laugh a bit. Aramis pushed himself closer to Porthos’ face and kissed Porthos on the cheek.

Porthos smiled, knowing that he and Aramis would eventually be alright again.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback will be much loved, as usual!


End file.
